


you know damn well for you i would ruin myself

by bettycooopers



Series: Barchie Week 2020 [4]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Cheating, F/M, Inspired by Taylor Swift, Post-Season/Series 04, mentions of Bughead and Varchie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:02:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25623340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bettycooopers/pseuds/bettycooopers
Summary: The first time is not meant to be their first time. Their first time was supposed to be sweet and soft, candles, a bed, many whispered, “I love you,” and “I love you, too,” 's. Their first time was supposed to be both of their actual first times, fumbling and laughing and awkward limbs and shuddering breaths.That is not this.
Relationships: Archie Andrews & Betty Cooper, Archie Andrews/Betty Cooper
Series: Barchie Week 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1853623
Comments: 8
Kudos: 105





	you know damn well for you i would ruin myself

**Author's Note:**

> hello! barchie week day four (albeit a bit late -- sorry, i was at the beach this week and my brain is full of salt water) is "song lyrics" and thus...i picked an entire song ("illicit affairs" by taylor swift) instead of just one line. very on brand for me, tbh. anyway -- that's right, this is full-fledged barcheating, so if that's not your thing...turn back now! also this is a prequel to another fic of mine, [(i don't wanna) hear the wedding bells bloom](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24794686), so after you read this...if you haven't, read that! ok bye.

The first time is not meant to be _their_ first time. Their first time was supposed to be sweet and soft, candles, a bed, many whispered, “I love you,” and “I love you, too,” 's. Their first time was supposed to be both of their actual _first_ times, fumbling and laughing and awkward limbs and shuddering breaths. He was supposed to be scared of hurting her, she was supposed to be scared of how badly it would hurt, he was supposed to push the hair off her face and kiss her tear stained cheeks, she was supposed to tell him it was okay and press her palms to his face to hold him close.

Their first time is not supposed to be:

Betty, pressed back against the side of the Andrews’ house and barely hidden from her own house let alone pedestrian traffic, with her underwear dangling around one ankle, her skirt pushed up around her waist. Archie, his pants and boxers just pulled down enough, his hands underneath Betty’s shirt, fingers digging into her waist, leaving desperate marks she would have to figure out later. Both of them, gasping and groaning, teasing each other. Him running his length against her, chuckling against her neck. Her whining and throwing her head back, breathless and desperate, digging her nails into his shoulders in a way that is more painful than sexy. Him, pushing into her hard and holding her still, staying buried in her, his jaw slack, mouth pressed to the side of her chin. Her gasping when she feels him fill her, face pressed into his shoulder, breath coming out ragged against his skin.

They come together, quickly, their moans muffled into each other’s skin. Archie spills into her and she clutches onto his shoulders, her legs shaking against him.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his voice vibrating against her throat.

A long few moments pass. She doesn’t mean to speak, but she does anyway. “We’re fucked,” she says, her voice soft. He lifts his head to look at her. She says it again, her eyes on his.

“Why are we fucked?” He’s dazed, she can tell. She takes him in for a long moment. Post-sex daze is a way she’s never seen him before and she wants to memorize everything about the way his eyelids droop, the curve of his lazy smile, the way his fingers are absently massaging her skin, just in case this is the only time she ever sees him like this.

She knows, realistically, there is no way this will be the only time she ever sees him like this. Not now that she’s seen him this way, that they’ve done this. She can’t not have him now that she’s had him.

Still, she drinks him in before she says anything. She combs her fingers through his hair, pressing a kiss to the hollow of his neck. “‘Cause now I know,” she says, her voice quiet, “and we can’t go back.”

He doesn’t say anything, but he gives her a nod. She knows he understands.

After all, they’re Betty and Archie.

—

They don’t see each other for a week.

Well, Betty doesn’t see Archie. Archie sees Betty in her window, outside their houses, in line at the grocery store with her headphones in, walking out of Pop’s with takeout as he pulls into the parking lot. Archie sees Betty in his dreams, too, which is not a _new_ phenomenon, but the volume of dreams he’s having is new, and it’s not exactly a _welcome_ thing for him, especially when he’s in bed with Veronica.

Thankfully, Jughead isn’t home from school yet — he stayed an extra week to sort through some housing stuff for next year — so Betty is alone in her window, curtains open when Archie decides he’s had enough of this ignoring him bullshit and walks over to the Cooper (/Smith/Jones, he guesses) house and knocks on the front door. Betty answers in a pair of shorts and a tight shirt, and he knows they’re not going to do much talking because her eyes flash up at him wildly and she pulls him in the house by his t-shirt.

“Hi,” she breathes against his lips, once they’re in her bedroom.

“Hi,” he says against her neck, his fingers pressed into her sides. “You’re ignoring me.”

“This is ignoring you?” She takes a step back from him and pulls her shirt off. She isn’t wearing a bra. He shuts his eyes for a second and lets out a groan. Her hands are pulling on his shirt before he can say anything.

“You know what I mean,” he mumbles, pulling his shirt over his head and, in the same motion, pulling her body against his, feeling her bare skin pressed to his own. He lets out a soft groan. “We don’t just _do_ that and then not talk.”

“You’re doing a lot of talking,” she says, a thin layer of annoyance over her words. She hooks an arm around his neck and pulls him down to her, kissing him, slipping her tongue into his mouth. He knows her. He knows she doesn’t _want_ to talk, doesn’t want to face anything head on.

They’re naked when they fall back onto her bed. He presses her legs open and settles between them, grabbing her wrists once she’s got her legs wrapped around his waist and holding them in his hands. He knows she’s ready for him, but he needs to know something first.

“ _What_ ,” she snaps, but her snap is weak — she just _wants_ him too badly, and he can hear it in her voice, he can feel it pressed against her.

“Are we doing this?” She glares at him. He laughs. “I just mean...are we doing this? Or are you gonna keep ignoring me? ‘Cause if you’re gonna keep ignoring me, I’m gonna stop.”

“You’re gonna _stop_? _Now_?” He bites out a little groan. His dick is pressed against her. He doesn’t think he actually _could_ stop now if he wanted to, but he tries to pretend he could.

“Yeah,” he says. It sounds like a lie, and he knows she knows it.

“I can’t exactly parade around in an I heart Archie shirt,” she says, her voice thick with scorn.

“I don’t care about that,” he shuts his eyes. He can’t look at her, naked beneath him and try to tell her he’s not going to fuck her. “You just can’t ignore me.”

“Arch,” she’s whining, but he peeks at her and her face is soft. “I just,” she lets out a breath. He lets go of her wrists and brings one of his hands down to brush his fingers over her cheek. “I wasn’t trying to ignore you. I just...this is,” she trails off and shuts her eyes.

“I know,” he’s quiet. He brushes his thumb over her cheek. “I know, it’s a lot. Deal with it with me, though.” She nods.

He doesn’t press her anymore, just kisses her and pushes into her and grins at the way she moans, his face buried in her neck. He doesn’t think he could ever get sick of her like this. He doesn’t think he could ever get sick of her, period.

—

He fucks her on Thursday afternoons, usually.

Other times, too, but Thursday afternoons are standing — Jughead is always on some sort of Serpent bullshit, Veronica is usually in the city for meetings with her father, Archie’s house is empty, and Betty going over there isn’t suspicious in the first place.

So, Thursdays are theirs. She takes off her clothes in the front entrance and he never bothers to put his on. They put their phones on Do Not Disturb and try to ignore everyone but each other.

One day, he puts her up on the kitchen counter while she’s trying to make him lunch. “I don’t need food,” he mumbles, his face against her thigh, when she protests that she’s _busy_ and the stove is on. He looks up at her as he kisses her skin, “I need _you_.”

One day, she pushes him down on the living room couch and straddles his lap, her face flushed. The curtains in the front window are open just a touch. The movie they have playing that neither has paid any attention to is loud in the background. She sinks down onto him as gunshots fire in the background and unknowing neighbors drive past the house. She wonders, absently, if anyone can see her, sweating, her head thrown back, Archie’s mouth on her breast.

One day, Veronica gets back to the Pembrooke early and calls Archie twice, which causes his phone to ring. Betty isn’t thinking because she’s bent over the sofa and he’s buried in her and she tells him to get it, even hands it to him. She listens as he tries to have a coherent conversation, even as she presses her hips back into his and presses her face into the couch cushion so she can let out a desperate whine. Archie ends the call, “okay, you too, bye,” and she knows Veronica just said she loves him. When his hands are free again and she feels them on her hips, she turns her head and finds his eyes full.

“You, too,” he breathes, his face pressed down against her neck after he spills into her. He laces his fingers with hers and squeezes her hands. She chokes out a sound that is a mix between a sob and a sigh, shaking her head. She feels him nod against her neck. “You, too.”

—

Her mom lets something slip one day about Jughead buying a ring. She fakes enthusiasm and then later she throws up, quietly, her head spinning. She dreams of a wedding — _her_ wedding — where the best man and the groom switch places halfway through the ceremony.

—

They are twenty-one, now. Well, almost all of them are twenty-one, now -- Betty's birthday is later in the summer, but Archie, Veronica, and Jughead are all of age and Betty has a fake, so they decide to go out one night.

It is, for all intents and purposes, a normal idea. A bad one, but, normal. Veronica suggests it. Betty thinks it's stupid, but Jughead smiles at her (Jughead rarely smiles) and says he thinks it would be fun to be _normal_ twenty-one year olds for a night. He sounds like he's reciting Veronica's words back at Betty, but she can't say no to him...especially because she has a hickey from Archie on her hip bone that she feels a little guilty about, so doing something that makes Jughead happy sounds like the right idea.

Archie texts her, ' _are we really doing this?_ ' and she sends back an eye roll emoji, and then _'Of course we're doing this. What choice do we_ _have_?', shaking her head and flipping her phone over on her nightstand, rolling over to press herself against Jughead's back.

The bar is dimly lit and Betty smells Veronica's breath -- a mix of gin, sour mix, and her expensive charcoal toothpaste -- before she sees Veronica with her arms outstretched. They haven't seen each other much in the past year. School has been a lot for the four of them -- Betty especially, with how rigorous her schedule at Yale tends to be -- so she doesn't tend to see a lot of Veronica.

She sees more of Archie. She sees _all_ of Archie.

She shakes that thought off, hugging Veronica stiffly and making her way to the bar without even saying hello to Archie. She feels his eyes on her and wills him to stop being an idiot. She orders for herself and Jughead, handing him a beer and sipping her drink, dragging her eyes up to Archie's and giving him a soft smile.

"Hey, Arch," she says, her voice too soft for the decibel of the bar they're in. He nods at her, tipping his beer bottle to hers in a "cheers" motion. She furrows her brow but feels Jughead's hand on her waist and decides not to think about it too much.

Several drinks later, she is dancing with Veronica and thinking about it _too_ much. Why hadn't he even said _hi_ to her? She feels Veronica’s arms slung around her shoulders and dances close, smiling at Veronica’s laughter in her ear. She’s not sure what’s funny, but a smile feels appropriate. Veronica is yelling something close to her ear, but she can’t make it out. Betty leans in closer and then Veronica is stooped over, vomiting on the dance floor.

Jughead offers to take her home. “You guys stay,” he yells in Betty’s ear, “I hate it here, anyway.”

She wants to say something about how this was _his_ idea for them to come out tonight, how she was doing something nice _for him_ here and he was leaving early. How this is so _like_ him and it’s annoying to her that he can’t just...want to do something fun with her, and let Archie deal with his girlfriend. She feels a little sick to her stomach at _that_ thought, but still. Instead of saying anything about him, though, she shakes her head in faux-protest and tries to offer to go herself. Archie runs a nervous hand through his hair, but doesn’t offer to leave. He’s been here a little longer than they have and he’s visibly a bit more drunk.

“Archie can’t drive,” Jughead reasons as Veronica leans her head against his shoulder, skin a pale shade of green, “and you never do anything for yourself. Stay. I’ll take her back to the Pembrooke, okay? I’ll text you.” Jughead kisses her cheek and nods to Archie — a _get her home safe_ nod, like Archie would do anything but — before guiding Veronica out of the bar.

Betty turns to see Archie with a bit of worry still etched into his forehead, but a small smile on his lips. She narrows her brow at him. “What?” He asks, leaning down so his lips are close to her ear.

“You shouldn’t look _happy_ ,” Betty steps closer to him, her hand hooking around his neck, pulling him down. Her lips touch his ear as she speaks, “your _girlfriend_ is sick, you can’t be happy about that.”

“I’m not,” he says, catching her forearm in his hand. He rubs his thumb against her wrist. “I’m not, but I never get to be out with _you_ like this. No one knows us here. That makes me happy.” Her heart shouldn’t clench at that idea. She shouldn’t press herself to him. She does. “Can’t I be both?”

She looks up at him with big, saucer eyes. She thinks he should be allowed to be happy more. She traces the scar between his eyebrows with her finger and rests her fingertips on his cheek.

She’s pretty sure he kisses her, but she can’t really tell because she was going in, too. She knows it’s her who drags him into the bathroom, and she knows it’s her who drops to her knees, and she knows it’s him who pulls her back up and gathers her in his arms and presses her against the wall, pushing her underwear to the side and pushing into her, not caring that there is absolutely someone in the stall next to them. She knows it's her that's loud, moaning his name, clawing his shoulders. 

She knows it's him who finds the hickey on her hip and puts a matching one on the other before they make their way back into the crowd.

\--

The fall is bleak and busy. Archie drives out to New Haven to visit for a weekend that Veronica and Jughead know and don't care about. They're friends, after all. Veronica encourages the visit. Jughead shrugs about it, says it will give him some quality time with his novel.

Betty takes Archie to some taggable tourist spots during their first day. This way, they can take photos to post all throughout the weekend so it doesn't look like they're just lying around naked in her apartment. Jughead comments on Archie's post of the views from the top of Judges Cave on Saturday afternoon, something about not letting Betty fall off a cliff during their hike.

Archie responds diplomatically, leaving out the part where Jughead's girlfriend had her lips wrapped around his dick when they stopped off on a secluded part of the trail.

\--

Veronica breaks up with Archie a little after Betty's twenty-second birthday. Archie is not sad about it, per se -- he's more upset he didn't get to do it first than the fact that she's doing it at all. He's glad she waited until the end of the summer, at least. It would have sucked to have been single around Betty and Jughead for however many weeks.

"We're so different," she says, and, "we've had a lot of fun," and, "all of our friends are getting married, I just don't see us there."

He agrees, he doesn't see them there either. The part about "all of their friends" is what throws him for a loop, because in his head they have approximately two of those, mutually, and he's not really sure those people are getting married any time soon, especially since he's been having sex with one of them for the better part of two years.

"Veronica says all of our friends are getting married," Archie says into his milkshake, rather than looking over at Jughead, who is sipping black coffee and grimacing. "I told her that's insane, since our friends are you and Betty." Jughead is going back to Iowa at the end of the week to continue in the writing program, pursuing a Master's degree in whatever the fuck, so they're at Pop's, catching up and saying goodbye, or something.

"Actually," Jughead says, looking around to ensure no one can hear them. Archie would roll his eyes, but his heart is beating a little hard. "She helped me pick out a ring," he shrugs. "Veronica, I mean. I asked her not to tell you."

"A ring for _what_ ," Archie raises his eyebrow. He knows for what, but he wants to hear Jughead say it. He needs something to hold onto that isn't the tabletop, so he grabs onto his knee and squeezes so hard his knuckles turn white.

"An _engagement_ ring, Archie," Jughead laughs. "I mean...I don't know. We've been together for a long time. I love her." Jughead shrugs, sipping his coffee. "I'm not asking yet. I just...wanted to have it. For when I'm ready."

"What about her, is she ready?" Archie feels like he's going to explode, but he needs to stay calm. After all, for some reason Jughead is his friend, too. Not that it feels like that all that often anymore, but...well. He's got history with the guy. He can't just blow it all, now.

Jughead lets out a laugh, swirling the coffee around his mug. "You may know the answer to that one better than I do, man."

Archie waits until Jughead leaves later that week to bring it up to Betty. Her face pales when he says _engagement ring_ and Archie feels bad for the little burst of joy that provides.

"Are you?" Archie's hand is on her bare hip. Betty sighs, pulling her hair over her shoulder and running her fingers through what appears to be a small tangle. 

"Am I what, Arch," she sighs, finishing with the tangle and raising her brow at him. 

"Ready...for him to propose?" Betty lets out a laugh, but her face looks hard. She frowns up at him. 

"I don't know," she sighs, shrugging. "Is anyone ever ready for anything?"

He kisses her bare skin, dragging his lips from her jaw down to her neck down to her shoulder. "I was always ready for you," he breathes against her skin. He doesn't bother hiding his smile when he feels her shiver.

\--

Betty tries to break things off when they're twenty-three.

They've spent the last year and a half at home, just the two of them outside of school breaks and holidays. They've gotten good at being discrete, but with the lack of Jughead and the absence of Archie's relationship, Betty thinks they've gotten a little too close. She spends the night in his bed a lot of the time, she wakes up and cooks breakfast in his kitchen wearing his t-shirt. He brings her coffee to the office of the Register on his way to teach music lessons. He's cooked her dinner and eaten it off her too many times to count.

She feels like he's her boyfriend, other than the times her actual boyfriend calls her to talk about plot devices and workshop notes and the douchey professors that he idolizes.

One night, they're both tired. Betty had a long day chasing down a lead for the story she's writing on the re-emergence of Jingle Jangle at Riverdale High (she's mentioned more than once that the word _re-emergence_ implies that there was a time it wasn't _abundant_ at all, but she doesn't call the shots when it comes to her stories) and Archie had taught six back-to-back guitar lessons to children that he wouldn't even call by name, he'd simply dubbed them Satan's 1 through 6. She looks at him tiredly when she walks into his house, the way she tends to after work. He nods back at her, also tired, and hands her an uncapped beer bottle.

They drink for a while and she plays with the hair on the back of his neck. She talks to Jughead on the phone while he runs out to pick up a pizza. He's distracted enough that the call is only a few minutes long. She eats pizza on the couch with Archie, their feet on the coffee table, the box propped open between them. 

An episode of the crime drama they're watching is close to the end when Betty feels herself nodding off. "Come sleep," Archie yawns over the nearly empty pizza box. Betty shakes her head.

"I'll sleep at home," she says, her voice soft. Archie frowns at her. "If we're not," she starts, but stops. They don't talk about what exactly it is they _do_ a lot. "It's fine. I can sleep in my bed. I'm sure you could use a break."

"Betty," he laughs, though it's not of amusement, "come on."

Betty stands up, brushing pizza crust crumbs off her shirt. She shakes her head, "seriously, Arch, it's fine."

Archie follows her towards the door and grabs her bag, holding it hostage. "What's up with you?"

"What's up with me is that I want to go to bed, Arch," she knows she sounds harsh, but she doesn't care. They can't just _do_ this, act like they're together when they're not. It's too comfortable, she likes it too much -- she probably shouldn't have it at all.

"So come to bed," he reasons, "it's not like...it's not like you haven't...slept here without," he sighs, looking down at his feet. "We don't always have to have sex, Betts."

"Stop," her voice is hard, loud. She looks straight at him, willing him to lift his head and look back at her. He doesn't.

"I'm just saying," he shrugs, his eyes still on his toes. "It's just sleep, baby."

Something in her brain snaps. She snatches her bag from him and slings it over her shoulder, her brain whirring. He's never called her that -- he _doesn't_ call her that. She's not his baby, and he can't just tell her that she is, act like she is. She's not his, she's never _been_ his, and he knows that. She wants to yell this all at him, but instead she crosses her arms over her chest. "Don't call me baby," she says, her voice low. He looks up at her, his brow furrowed, his eyes concerned. "We...we're playing with fire, Arch. We can't _do_ this. What's going to happen when Jughead comes back? Or when I...go with him, when he's done. What's going to happen, we're just...going to keep doing this? You're going to keep making me dinner? I'm going to keep walking around the house naked? And then what, I go home to my boyfriend and we fu--," 

" _Stop_ ," Archie says, his voice loud and low. She stares at him. His eyes are filled with hurt. They stay quiet for a long moment. "Stop it."

"I'm serious," she shouts, "I'm _serious_ , we can't do this! We can't just... _act_ like this! Like it's _normal_ when it's not!"

"Trust me," he lets out a dark laugh, "I know it's _not_ normal, Betts."

"You know what? Fuck you," she shakes her head, "don't...patronize me. Don't do that. We...this shouldn't be happening. We shouldn't be doing this."

"That hasn't stopped you before," he points out, holding out a hand. "You're tired. Don't be ridiculous because you," he trails off, running a hand through his hair. He knows she hates it when people make her sound like she's crazy. "Just come to bed, Betty."

"No," she takes a step back towards the door, swallowing hard. "No, I'm going home. I'm sleeping in my own bed, and we're...we're just going to stop this, now. We...we have to stop this."

"How do we just _stop_ it," Archie doesn't sound like he believes her, much, which is infuriating -- but he also sounds like he's serious, which is doubly infuriating. "We've been at this for _years_ , Betty. We've...we've been at this our whole fucking _lives_ . And I _love_ you," she sucks in a breath at his words. He's never said that before. "Which you have known since we were _children_ , so don't fucking act like that's brand new information. I love you," he shakes his head, "and you...love me."

She stares at him, her eyes burning. She doesn't actually know if she loves him. She guesses she must, considering she's been ready to throw her life away for him for...almost the entirety of it, but still. She feels her eyes scanning his face.

"I'm not just going to let you throw this away because you're tired and scared." His voice is low in his throat. He takes a tentative step towards her. "Not when I know you want this just as badly as I do, any way we can have it."

"I don't," she lies, badly. She shuts her eyes because she doesn't want to look at him and cry. She feels him step closer to her again, feels him thumbing the tears off her cheeks.

"Right," he says, and she can feel his breath on her face. "You love him, right?" She feels herself frowning. She opens her eyes and he's right there, his hands on her face, his eyes on hers. "But you love me, too. You love _me_...and I'm _here_."

She lets out a slow breath and doesn't try to move. "I'm tired," she says, after a long few moments.

"Then let's go to bed," Archie sighs, brushing his fingers against her back. She drops her purse on the ground and wraps her arms around his neck. He lifts her up and she lets him carry her up the stairs, lets him take her clothes off, lets him lay down next to her and wrap his arms around her waist. He buries his face into her neck and mumbles, "don't do that again," against it.

"Don't do what," her voice is raw. She already knows.

"Don't try to get rid of me," he murmurs. "I'm not going anywhere."

She brushes her thumb over his wrist. She nods because she doesn't think she can say anything without crying.

\--

She gets a better job at twenty-four and they move to the city. Jughead's wanted to for a while and has basically been living there without her, most of the time, crashing on his friends' couches when it's too late to come home. Archie stays in Riverdale, and Betty's able to use the excuse of "my mom needs some help this weekend," or, "I want to spend time with Polly and the twins," to be able to spend weekends with him. Sometimes, Jughead travels and Archie comes in while he's gone.

They stay in a hotel, then. Archie refuses to come to their apartment.

They take advantage of the time they have together, because it's less, now. She spends a lot of time working, or figuring out the best takeout restaurants, or trying to make their studio apartment look larger than it is. He spends a lot of time working, or teaching guitar lessons on the side, or trying to make his empty house feel smaller than it is.

"I want to be here with you," Betty breathes, tucking herself into his side one Friday night. She's naked save for Archie's ratty old Riverdale High t-shirt, and he's naked, period. "I always thought I wanted the city, but it turns out...I want to be here."

"I want to be wherever you are," he shrugs. "I could move there."

Betty looks at his face seriously. She turns over and lays half on him, half on the bed, pressing her fingers against his chest. "I don't think you should," she shakes her head. "I think it would...mess us up."

He nods. He knows what she means, even though he doesn't agree.

\--

A publisher agrees to publish Jughead's novel when they're twenty-five, right as he finishes up his Master's degree. After rounds and rounds of edits, sleepless nights (for Jughead), and long stretches of silence (for Betty), it's ready. 

Archie brings a date to the launch party -- a brunette in a black cocktail dress and red lipstick -- and Betty feels like she might throw up as she watches the woman look at Archie with fuck me eyes. "She's pretty," Jughead says, fidgeting with his suit. He looks handsome, but nobody really holds a candle to Archie, filling out a tuxedo like it's nobody's business.

"I guess," Betty shrugs. "She's like a cheap version of Veronica." Jughead snorts, wrapping his arm around her waist. "He could do better."

"Well," Jughead presses a kiss to her cheek, "everyone could do better, except me."

Betty rolls her eyes at him but gives him a soft smile. He tries, sometimes -- well, she notices, sometimes. She thinks he probably tries more than she notices him trying. "Cute," she chuckles, grabbing a champagne flute off of a passing tray. 

The night is boring, for the most part. She meets Jughead's editor, Jughead's publishing team, Jughead's PR assistant, Jughead's marketing manager. They are all blurs of people, all shaking her hand and telling her how much they love Jughead. She tries to be present, but finds herself watching the brunette feed Archie appetizers and laugh at his jokes. 

Archie's jokes aren't that funny, so she doesn't really understand what there is to laugh about, but...whatever.

Jughead is supposed to say a few words towards the end of the night, so she straightens his lapels and reties his tie. "How do I look?" He asks, and normally he wouldn't care about something like that so she takes the time to look him over and smooth her hands over his shoulders. 

"Perfect," she smiles. He smiles back at her. There's spinach in his teeth. She goes to tell him, but he's kissing her cheek and turning away before she can. She sighs. 

Archie sidles up next to her, his date bobbing around behind him as Jughead starts to talk about Iowa, about working through the rough spots of his novel. "This is Gwen," Archie says, his voice low, close to Betty's ear.

"I'm Gwen," the brunette says, offering her hand. Betty gives her a tight lipped smile.

"Betty," Betty supplies, ignoring the handshake. She presses her index finger to her lips and shoots Archie a look.

She hears her name, focusing back on Jughead and smiling sweetly. He's looking at her pointedly. She raises a brow. He laughs softly, the room laughing with him. She doesn't really know what's happening, but Jughead's pulling her up onto the stage. She looks back over her shoulder at Archie, who grows pale. "What are you doing," she hears herself saying, and Jughead presses a kiss to her cheek and then drops down to one knee. "Oh my god," she hears herself say, but she doesn't really feel like she's in her body. She wants to look back at Archie but she can't do that, not right now, not when Jughead is kneeling in front of her with a ring box in his hand.

She says yes because people are watching her and she doesn't want to disappoint them. She lets Jughead slide the ring onto her finger and tries to muster up some tears. It isn't hard when she looks over her shoulder to find Archie in the back corner of the room, his date having disappeared. His eyes are dark, his jaw is set. He finds her eyes and gives her the tiniest of smiles. She feels herself trying to smile back, but she can only stare at him for a moment longer before she feels herself getting sucked into a whole other vortex of people who want to coo at her and say congratulations.

\--

He makes her take her ring off at the front door. That's their rule, now. They don't acknowledge it, but the first time she walks into the house with it on he tugs it off and slips it into her pocket. "I can't see that," he says, his voice sincere, and she doesn't question it. She just kisses him and holds his face close because she doesn't know if she can apologize for something she didn't even do.

\--

She's assigned a story that will take her out of the city several times over the next month and she's giddy. Less because of the story, and more because of the leaving. Jughead keeps talking about setting a wedding date and every time he brings up the calendar app on his phone, she feels her skin crawl. "I'm barely used to being a fiancée," she tries to joke, "let me get used to that before you try to make me a wife."

She thinks he's only going to let her make the joke for so long before he pushes her into the whole date thing.

Anyway, the story is sending her out to Denver, primarily, and when she tells Archie he makes a humming noise that she kind of likes. "What's that mean?" She asks, her voice hopeful.

"I'm off that week," he says, and she can hear his smile. "I'm looking at flights."

"You're looking at flights?"

"To Denver," he clarifies. She can hear him typing.

"You're looking at flights to Denver?"

"Are you okay?" He's laughing at her. She sours. 

"Are you?" She chews on her thumbnail a little. "Looking, I mean."

She hears him clicking. "I booked it." Her heart swells. 

She waits for him in the airport, and when she sees him walking towards her, her heart melts. Broad chested, red haired, smiley, sweet Archie. His eyes trace over her body like he knows every inch of it, and when he pulls her against him, his hands rest on the small of her back to keep her close, the way she likes. He kisses her softly, tipping her chin up and making a show of it, lifting her slightly. Her brain thinks to fight him, but no one knows who they are, here. She slips her tongue into his mouth and lets out a soft moan. Their luggage is still at their feet.

They check into their hotel and the concierge calls Betty, "Mrs. Andrews," with a smile. She hears Archie choke a bit next to her. She simply smiles and says thank you, taking their room keys and putting them into her pocket. She slips her engagement ring off covertly in the elevator, zipping it into her jacket pocket for safe keeping.

They don't leave the hotel for the first twenty-four hours. Betty stands naked in front of the full length mirror, surveying her sore body. She has bruises on her hips, marks from his fingers, marks from his mouth. She feels Archie's arms wrap around her and she laughs as he hauls her back to bed. He lays her down and kisses her, from her lips and down her body, paying special attention to the spots he's marked up on her, brushing his fingers, his lips, his tongue over her skin. 

They go to a dispensary and buy edibles, Betty giggling while Archie asks pointed, intellectual questions. She can't help but notice the role reversal, and she smiles up at him when he pays. They pop the edibles and head to dinner, both giggly and handsy throughout the meal. She jumps on his back on the walk to the hotel, and he hoists her up, his hands under her knees. She presses her face to the top of his head, kissing it. "I never see up here," she mumbles, smiling when he laughs at her, "you have a lot of hair, Arch."

"I know," he says, peeking up at her. 

"Don't move your head," she laughs, putting both of her hands on his head to keep him still, "I wanna memorize it."

"You want to memorize the top of my head?" Betty nods, knowing full well he can't see it. She's still trying to memorize when they get back to the hotel. He sets her down on the bed and stoops down in front of her, on both his knees and in between hers. His face is flushed, his pupils are blown. "Hey," he says, his voice soft.

"Hi," she smiles, pressing her forehead to his. He reaches into his back pocket. She furrows her brow.

"I got you something," he says. He seems nervous. She raises her brow. He knows she can't be engaged to two people, right? Her brain floats off to think about that for a long moment, but snaps back when he's holding a long rectangular velvet box in front of her. "When you were in your meeting, earlier."

He flips it open. It's a delicate gold chain with a small round emerald stone sitting in the middle. She looks up at him with her eyes wide. "You bought that?" He nods. "You bought that for _me_?" He nods again. "It's beautiful, baby," she pulls her face to his and kisses him softly. "I love it, I love it," she says against his mouth, "put it on me."

"Wait," he says, smiling against her lips. He helps her tug her dress off, unhooks her bra, slides off her underwear. He pulls his shirt over his head and steps out of his jeans. He lets her free the necklace from its little box while he gets out of his boxers. He hooks it onto her easily, Betty holding her hair to the side. It sits right above her breasts and she watches with shaky breath as he brushes his thumb over it. "Now you can always think of me," he says. She lets out a little sound, her voice cracking.

He fucks her into the mattress in nothing but her necklace.

\--

Alice insists they have an engagement party back in Riverdale. Betty understands why, but she doesn't want a party. Jughead, on the other hand, wants a party. She thinks it has something to do with him and the whole wedding date thing -- and if a party will tide him over and stop him from shoving his calendar app in her face when she's trying to read research materials for work or watch reality shows to numb her mind, then a party it is. 

She knows Alice invites Archie, and she texts him ' _You don't have to, baby._ ' because she knows it will be hard. She also knows he has to, but she wants to give him an out. He texts her back, ' _i want to see your dress, though_ ' and that is that.

Her dress, though, is exquisite. Alice paid for it and it makes Betty look like some kind of supermodel, tight around her curves and loose at the bottom, the neckline and back dipping lower than her normal dresses. She curls her hair and does some fancy eye makeup on the day of the party, and Jughead lets out a whistle when he sees her walk down the steps of her (their?) parents house. She smiles and curtsies, and he kisses the side of her head after she shoves him away from her mouth when he threatens to ruin her lipstick. She runs her fingers along her necklace, holding the emerald between her fingers for a long moment before she drops it.

The party is in full swing when Archie gets there. She feels his eyes on her before she sees him, _knows_ he's in the room before she actually knows. He's smiling at her, his brow raised, and she gives him a little grin. 

They say hello the way they always do when other people are around, with a tight hug, and he mumbles, "Right choice, coming to see that dress," into her ear before stepping back. He shakes hands with Jughead and then heads to the bar, where she watches him making smalltalk with the bartender before getting sucked into a conversation with Polly about her maid of honor dress.

Several flutes of champagne and a teary toast from her mother later, Betty makes her way back to the venue's bathroom, her shoes in her hand. She knows Archie saw her walking back this way -- he's barely taken his eyes off her through the entire party -- but she doesn't know if he'll be able to cut away from the conversation he's in. Cheryl and Toni really don't give him a break, he's told her that before. 

She's not surprised, though, when a few minutes pass and he's ducking into the women's restroom with a bit of a flush on his cheeks. She sucks in a breath and smiles as he flips the lock on the door, pulling her against him and kissing her without another word. She feels one of his hands trail down the side of her face, down to her neck where it holds gently onto the emerald, then presses it softly into her skin. "I know," she breathes, pulling her lips from his, "I know, I know." He looks at her with dark eyes and she brushes her fingers through his hair. He lifts her up and presses her back against the door of the bathroom, setting her down so he can work his belt.

"You look beautiful," he breathes, his lips on her neck as he fumbles with his belt, "so, _so_ beautiful, baby."

"Thanks," she says, her voice thick. She doesn't care how she looks, she cares that he's not inside her yet. She swats his hands away and works his belt buckle, pushing his pants down and sliding her dress up to reveal the lacy white underwear she's wearing. He lets out a groan, pulling at them and slipping them off of her. "I knew you'd like them," she murmurs as he lifts her back up, pressing her back against the door. She wraps her legs around his waist and breathes out a soft moan as he pushes into her, her nails digging into the back of his neck.

They fall apart quickly, moans muffled into each other's mouths, his hands keeping her dress from getting dirty. She goes to pull her underwear out of his back pocket and he raises a brow, shaking his head. "Archie, I need those," she laughs, pressing a lazy kiss to his neck.

" _I_ need 'em," he mumbles, ducking his head down and kissing the spot of her skin where the necklace sits. He peeks up at her, then presses his forehead to hers. "Something's gotta get me through the rest of this party, baby. Not enough champagne in the world."

She doesn’t say anything, but she gives him a nod. He knows she understands.

After all, they’re Betty and Archie. 

**Author's Note:**

> you can follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/cherhasthoughts) or [tumblr](https://bettycooopers.tumblr.com) if you feel like watching me break down in real time!


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